Those Left Behind
by GG Superhero of the future
Summary: “It was only now in the privacy of her own room she allowed herself to mourn the fact that she would never again see the annoyingly endearing smile of one Major Marcus Lorne.” Based on the episode Coup D’Etat. LorneOC. Part 2. Lorne's pov.
1. Part 1: Bad news travels fast

**Disclaimer: **I only own Dr Alison Madison. If you recognise it, it's not mine. I don't own Stargate Atlantis or it's characters unfortunately. If I did John and Elizabeth would be ducking into closets all over the city. Ronon and Teyla would have done more than give each other those smouldering looks. And Rodney would so get some action. After all, you got to love that brain of his. Plus there would be lots of scenes where alien influences causes many of the men in the city to take off their shirts or risk death.

**AN: **This is my first Atlantis fic so be gentle with me. Feedback would be greatly appreciated. I don't mind criticism as long as it's constructive. I kind of get bummed by the whole 'this is the worst thing ever written and you should die etc' (which actually happened when I was posting Harry Potter fiction under a different name). Anyway, enough of the pity party. Decided to go with the name Marcus as just about every other Lorne fic out there uses it. Don't know about you but I think it suits him. I'm also looking for a beta for when I actually get my act together and write any of these other ideas in my head. Anyone interested?

Also I am English so it's not that I'm really bad at spelling, it just how we spell things here.

**Spoilers: **Season 2 up to Coup D'Etat.

**Summary: **_"It was only now in the privacy of her own room she allowed herself to mourn the fact that she would never again see the annoyingly endearing smile of one Major Marcus Lorne." _Based on the episode Coup D'Etat. Lorne/OC.

**Part: **1/3

Those Left Behind

_Bad news travels fast_

If there was one thing she had learnt it was that rumours spread at an alarming rate no matter what galaxy you happened to be in. In fact in the Pegasus galaxy, with a distinct lack of the usual entertainment choices, it seemed to be somewhat worse. It was a safe assumption that within half an hour of disembarking through the gate the majority of the expedition had a very good idea as to any wacky adventures endured by the flagship team. Though most of the time it was like a game of Chinese whispers on a mass scale and you could not always believe the distorted view of events. This was very much proven by the fact that Teyla was yet to return impregnated by any of her team mates, Colonel Sheppard it appeared did not have three wives spread across the galaxy (as far as they all knew) and Rodney McKay was still alive, putting a halt to the rumour that Ronon had flipped out, joined a cannibalistic tribe and proceeded to roast the scientist on a spit over a roaring fire.

People were so interested in what was going on the only way it could have spread any faster was if it had been broadcasted through the radio system (and they did not think that Dr Weir was going to implement that course of action anytime soon). The same principle could be said for any sordid little rendezvous' between the scientists on the east pier, even the surprising couples to be seen sitting together in the mess hall. Gossip was not exclusive to life and death situations. Very high school but it wasn't like Atlantis was buzzing with a plethora of leisure activities. Not all of the theories were true of course but they sure did make for good entertainment at girls poker nights when tiring of the discussion of which one of the military leaders would be a preferable partner if you were to be stranded off world on a deserted planet and was forced to reproduce in order to save the human race. No surprise really that Sheppard was leading that poll, many of the female Atlanteans itching to try and covert him from his Kirk-like ways, which of course would be made a hell of a lot easier it being a deserted planet and all.

When it came to the boredom, if worse came to the worse you could always fall back on the ever-interesting Atlantis betting pool. It was ridiculous really the things people would make bets on when there was a distinct lack of cable television. For instance there were some very reliable nurses who gave periodic updates of how many times Lt. Colonel Sheppard ended up in the infirmary in any given week. There was also the dedicated control room staff, who kept an eye on how many times he visited Dr Weir in a day (this being the times it appeared unrelated to work). And there was even one of the scientist who kept count of the amount of times in one day that Dr Zelenka swore in Czech after Dr McKay left the room. The amount of chocolate, magazines and other luxury items traded on this, you had better believe the grapevine was like a well-oiled machine.

If rumours (and bets) spread fast, however, it was noting compare to the rate at which bad news filtered throughout the corridors of the Ancient city. And the thing about bad news was it always seemed to correct. Maybe it was a good thing in the long run. Maybe it was better to know the truth than to spend the day thinking that her world was still the same, that it was still intact. Ignorance may be bliss, but in the end it wouldn't have changed a damn thing… he was still gone.

Dr Alison Madison had been in her lab when she had heard the news. She had been working late analysing samples from M4R-252 and had been quite engrossed in the study of the new grass root, especially considering the fact it was bright blue in colour. Two years at the SGC and two in Atlantis and it still amazed the botanist how astounded she remained at each new species she encountered. You really think it would have become second nature by now. She supposed it was the scientist part of her brain that insisted she remain curious and animated at any aspects of the unknown and the possibility for new discoveries.

So immersed in her work, it had taken several moments for her to even register the shadow of the figure standing uneasily by her workstation. Glancing up, she vaguely thought it was about time Katie reappeared with the newly refilled coffee pot. Okay, so the stuff did taste a bit like muddy water but caffeine was caffeine after all, and she was quite sure there was some in there somewhere, no matter how cleverly it was disguised. The relieved smile quickly fell when their eyes connected. It was Katie Brown standing in front of her all right, and the coffee pot was clenched in her right hand, but the expression on her friends face surprised her. She prayed that the cause of such an expression had been the fact she had just encountered a half naked Kavanaugh sprinting from the mess hall or something of the like, that would cause the pained look to crumble and the light sound of laughter to fill the lab. The icy feeling of dread that automatically shot into her stomach seemed to indicate that hadn't been the case. Alison knew that something was really wrong and that was when the fear set in. She had never been an overdramatic person and never one to panic but the look on Katie's face said it all; something really bad had happened.

"There's been a problem on 177." Katie hadn't needed to say anything else, _he _had been on 177 and her face had told her all she needed to know. Closing her eyes Alison prayed that it wasn't what she thought it was. It couldn't be. He couldn't be gone. The burning sensation of tears began to prick her eyes and she knew even before the next words were spoken.

"They just brought the bodies back through the gate." She supposed maybe there should have been more denial. Maybe she should have held out hope for just a bit longer. But then, she had that bad feeling all morning, that she had at first attributed to the fact they she hadn't spoken to him since their argument. Maybe she was a cynic but hearing him referred to as a 'body' had hit home like she had just been beaten with a sledgehammer of intergalactic proportions. She had remained frozen stiff for several moments until she realised her grip on the desk had been so strong she could no longer feel her own fingertips. Releasing her hold slowly, she silently stood. Abandoning the samples she hurried out of the lab, stone expression plastered on her face. She was vaguely aware of Katie calling her name, but that really didn't matter at this precise moment. She hardly registered any of the personnel she passed or the looks on their faces; she had only one thought on her mind. She needed to get to her room. There was no way she was going to breakdown here, not yet. It took several aggravating attempts to get into her room as her hands shook at an alarming rate and her brain did not seem to be able to perform the simple task. It was only when the whoosh of the door shutting behind her reached her ears that she allowed herself to let go. Flopping heavily onto her bed face first, she let the dam crumble; she let the pain wash over her and then allowed the tears to fall. It was only now in the privacy of her own room she allowed herself to mourn the fact that she would never again see the annoyingly endearing smile of one Major Marcus Lorne.

Choking on hysterical sobs she tried to calm down. Taking deep gulps of air, she allowed her mind to wander. How was she supposed to go on without him in her life? Who else was going to bring her back a bouquet of pretty flowers from off world? So, he had spent four days in the infirmary because he hadn't realised that half of them had been poisonous, but still it had been a sweet gesture. Who else would hold her through the night then wake her up in the morning by singing off key Frank Sinatra in the shower, with the occasional country song thrown in for variety? Who else would make her smile by cracking a wildly inappropriate joke when she was homesick? Or smuggle extra pieces of chocolate cake (well that's what it claimed to be) from the mess when she was working late? The bigger question really was who else was him?

He was gone. Really gone. Her gut twisted as she thought back on what had transpired the last time they had spoken. The last words she had spoken to him were in anger. She hoped that he knew she hadn't meant a word of it. She should never have let him travel through the gate without telling him she was sorry, but she had been angry. Not angry with him, but herself and too stubborn to admit it. It was suppose to be a routine mission; he was supposed to give her the opportunity to apologise!

There were signs of him all over her room. There was the half a pack of gum on the bedside cabinet, which had to be his, as she never touched the stuff. One of his shirts lay over a chair in the corner, and that crime thriller he had traded three chocolate bars and the fishing magazine he had won in a poker game, lay on the desk. She didn't even remember when he had brought it over. Then again she shouldn't have been surprised, he had had his head buried in it during spare moments for the past two weeks. Twenty-six pages left. He was never going to know how it ended. It was then that the anger took over and coursed through her body like an electrical current. Grabbing the nearest object in her reach, she hurled it across the room. The items on the bookcase shelves were next. After several moments of destruction, her legs gave way and she slumped to the floor. Her eyes drawn to the scattered heap of things next to her. Moving aside several books and trinkets, she reached for the frame, wincing slightly as she noticed the chip on one of the corners. He had given it to her for her birthday only weeks ago. God only knows what he had traded for it. Stroking the carved wooden frame a trembling smile rose to her face. Inside was a picture of them. She didn't even know when it had been taken. An array of pictures had been posted on the notices boards in some of the labs and in the corridors about a month ago. The fact that Laura Cadman had been parading around with a smug smile every time Rodney McKay tried to pull down the ones of him in an embarrassing position, led her to the suspicion that the lieutenant had been the snap happy culprit. It had certainly raised morale and after a while some of the pictures had been distributed to the members of the expedition due to the fact they were beginning to take over the walls of Atlantis. This had been one of them. Set against the backdrop of the ocean, her photo self laughed as he whispered something in her ear, his arm thrown casually across her shoulders. Neither aware that they were being observed through a camera lens. Her fingers gently traced over his face, even in a picture his beautiful blue eyes sparkled with mischief and life.

Pushing down a fresh batch of sobs, she drew her knees towards her body. Her eyes felt gritty and sore, her face was probably puffed up and she knew for sure she was going to have impressive tear tracks down her cheeks. Grabbing a handful of tissues off the dresser, she attempted to fix the mess she was in. She decided at that moment that she needed to be strong. They had both been aware this time might come, a time when he wouldn't come back through the gate, when he wouldn't come back to her. He wasn't the first casualty of Atlantis and unfortunately he wouldn't be the last. She supposed she had feared it all along, perhaps that what the other night had been all about. Still, the knowledge that it was a real possibility did nothing to prepare her for the pain of it actually happening. She knew she wasn't going to be the only one mourning, everyone was struck by any loss in the city and from the plural Katie had used he hadn't been the only casualty of the mission. The numbness began to take over now. Perhaps it was the numbness that she needed. She may not run the city but she still had a job to do, they all did. She knew Marc well enough to know that he was a soldier first and foremost. He would have mourned but he would have still done his job, he understood about duty about getting done what had to be done no matter what. Atlantis came first. It was just one of the reasons she had loved him. She only wished she could have had a chance to tell him that.


	2. Part 2: Caged

**Disclaimer: **I only own Dr Alison Madison. I don't own Stargate Atlantis or it's characters unfortunately. If I did John and Elizabeth would be ducking into closets all over the city. Ronon and Teyla would have done more than give each other those smouldering looks. And Rodney would so get some action. After all, you got to love that brain of his. Plus there would be lots of scenes where alien influences causes many of the men in the city to take off their shirts or risk death.

**AN: **I was reading some fan fics the other day and I stumbled across Orangeswirl's story Trespasser (really good story by the way). I noticed the similarity in the name I've used in this story to the name used in that one. This was of course unintentional, but thought I'd clarify anyway.

Some feedback would be very much appreciated.

**Spoilers: **Season 2 up to Coup D'Etat.

**Summary: **_"It was only now in the privacy of her own room she allowed herself to mourn the fact that she would never again see the annoyingly endearing smile of one Major Marcus Lorne." _Based on the episode Coup D'Etat. Lorne/OC.

**Part: **2/3

Those Left Behind

Caged

This was not high up on his list of priorities. No sir, getting captured and held hostage in some dank prison cell by a gang Genii rebels was in fact pretty low down the list. Perhaps somewhere below being teamed with McKay once again or crossing path with an Unas, they still kind of creeped him out, (not to mention that he could live without the memory of his emptying his stomach in front of members of SG-1, kind of embarrassing for an air force major, even if it had been for a good reason). But then again, back to priorities, this whole situation was still above torturous and impeding death at the hands of the Wraith; if only just.

So far they could find no way and out and any plan formulated seemed like it had zero chance of actually working. For a brief second, and he couldn't stress the brief enough, he wished McKay had actually been with them. He may be a royal pain in the ass for sure, but he was definitely a genius. They could probably use a genius about now. Maybe he should have paid more attention in school. Then again, he was unsure how paying attention in Biology, rather than making little paper airplanes would really help at this precise moment. Hmm, maybe he should have paid more attention but they hadn't really taught a class on how to get your ass out of prison when ambushed in another galaxy. Perhaps they should, because apparently everything he had learnt in the academy or during his stint at the SGC and in Atlantis, was not helping one little bit.

Leaning heavily against the wall of the cell, Lorne sighed and without much else to do he let his mind wonder. He speculated whether being kidnapped, forced through the Stargate onto another planet, God only knows where, and locked up meant he was still on duty. Well, he hadn't had a vacation in a while. He just hadn't thought his company would be all male and the accommodation would be worse than his dorm first year at the academy. Plus there was the whole danger thing and the fact it was against his will. Ok, maybe he had been locked up a little too long; he was starting to sound a little irrational; nothing could be worse than that dorm!

Was it stupid for him to consider getting captured a blow to his ego? Even in his head it sounded stupid, but he was responsible for the team. Did it say something about his leadership as they sat in a prisoner cell thousands of light years (well he assumed it was thousands) away from Atlantis? He should have seen that ambush coming. It was his job after all, and it wasn't some job where you just fired for making a mistake. People died if he didn't get it right. Or if he got himself captured by a group who had at one time tried to take his city by force. Yep, so not a good situation to be in right now.

Then again, he wasn't any worse than Colonel Sheppard on the capture stakes and he still considered him to be a good CO. Though it seemed on the 'getting your ass out of the fire stakes', he was somewhat behind. He was really starting to get tired of staring at these bars.

Someone on Atlantis would figure out what had happened. Even faster if Dr Lindsay had made it, she would have radioed for backup even if had been too late to stop the capture. He had been involved in too many rescue missions, usually these involved going in after his CO, to believe that they weren't coming for them. He was after all an optimist, definitely a half full glass kind of guy. But as he rubbed his neck slightly, very aware of his absent dog tags, he had a good idea of what they may have been taken for. Still, Weir could be a pit bull when her people were missing and the combined IQ of the expedition was so ridiculous someone would realise what had actually happened. And like that the glass was half full again.

He wondered if Alison would be worried about him. Of course she would, he told himself, you don't just stop caring about someone because of a stupid fight. A nagging part of his brain told him that maybe she didn't care as much as he thought she had. After all, he hadn't thought it had been an unreasonable suggestion. The two of them had been together for many months now, so the suggestion that they share a room didn't seem like too much of leap. Ok, so it was the Atlantis equivalent of moving in together, but it's not like others hadn't already done it. He had heard a few of the scientist were adjusting to domestic bliss very well. The fact was that they seemed to spend most nights together anyway, when he wasn't off world, so it seemed practical to have a space that was theirs, with their stuff. When he came back from a mission he wanted to be able to shower and just slip into bed next to her, without having to traipse half way across the city first so he could dump his gear and get a clean change of clothes; he only had so many shirts he could leave at hers and sometimes using her shampoo caused a few comments and ribbings from his team mates, who claimed that smelling of strawberries was fine by them if it made him happy. They had of course remained quiet after he had suggested they might fancy a little time in the Brig, but those smirks were a lot harder to get rid of. Maybe in the end he just wanted to come back to her, rather his cold and empty room. She hadn't been so enthusiastic about the idea. She claimed it was too fast and they needed their own space. Space smace, he just needed to be with her, he got enough space travelling through the Stargate for days on end. He, in contrast, hadn't felt like it was too fast. They had never actually said those three little words to each other, but he had been sure they both felt them. From where he was sitting their relationship already seemed pretty darn serious, but her reluctance had given him doubts. Was he just entertainment, an ongoing fling whilst they were away from Earth? Something to fill the void, the loneliness? Because in a job like this it sure could get lonely. Would things have been different if they had been on Earth? Maybe if they had met at the SGC?

No, he couldn't be just a fling; she had to care about him. Despite what she may have accused him off, he knew her. He just wished he knew what she was afraid of.

He had claimed that all her arguments against them moving in together had just been excuses. She had claimed that he was acting all gung-ho and he should actually put some thought into it. He had been hurt and she had been defensive and it seemed that hadn't been a very good combination. Before either of them had realised it, their slight disagreement had escalated into a major row, even louder than the rollicking McKay had receive off Weir after he had accidentally destroyed that solar system. Lorne wouldn't have been surprised it the whole of Atlantis had heard the screaming. It vaguely occurred to him to wonder what the rumour mill had been spitting out. He had only just thought about it, but it sure did explain the curious glances his team had sent his way before they had embarked through the gate and why no one had questioned his mood. Their disagreement had ended with her declaring that he was selfish and obviously didn't understand a thing about her and with him storming out of her room after declaring that she really thought highly of him if that had really been what she thought. He had heard the crash as he left but sure as hell wasn't curious enough to see what she had thrown at his retreating back. He had tossed and turned all night, in his own bed, so hadn't been in the best mood the next morning. Still being a mixture of annoyed, hurt and confused he had not sought her out to apologise. After all, he still had some pride. She had been the one to strike him down. The fact that she hadn't sought him out either had made him resist even more. After all, he had made his intentions clear. He didn't know what was going on in that head of hers, but she had to figure it out for herself. They had probably both said some things they didn't mean in the heat of the moment, but that didn't change the fact that this fight had come from somewhere. It was like she had been trying to pick a fight with him and perhaps subconsciously they had both been aware of it. It was this thought that had pushed him through the gate without finding out exactly where they stood even though he had the momentary (and in his opinion irrational) urge to find her and beg for forgiveness. But in his defence he wasn't expecting to be taken prisoner.

Maybe he was dwelling on this too much. He was in charge of these men; he was responsible for their lives. They needed to think of another plan to get the hell out of here. Even if there were only a small chance it would be successful, it would be better than nothing. It would be better than just waiting around. Catching the eye of his second in command he gave the silent order, as he was wary of the armed guard that had just appeared; it was time to put their thinking caps on.

Not much time had passed, when there was a commotion heard in the corridor. The heavy footfalls and strange scraping sound alerted the prisoners before they could see what was actually happening. The mind can process things at an alarming rate and Lorne briefly faced the reality that this could be the end. The numerous armed guards they had expected soon fell in his eye line, causing him to frown, as they appeared to be dragging a group of bodies towards them. All was made clear an instant later, when several men were unceremoniously dumped into the cell with them. It took a moment to realise who they were and when he did his spirits lifted somewhat. When he had wished for McKay's expertise early, however, he had been hoping he would be conscious at the time. Kneeling down quickly he tried to revive him, whilst his team did the same to the others. Oh well, they were still alive and they would come round eventually. On the plus side, where McKay was you could be sure Colonel Sheppard wasn't too far behind. It all seemed to be a matter of waiting now.

The wait was not that long as their captor appeared once more and he wasn't alone.

"Lorne!" He stood as the door was unlocked and his CO stepped through. Ok, so maybe this wasn't going to be quite the rescue operation he had counted on. But, still at least it was something. Sheppard walked into the cell and the door was locked behind him.

"Major." Sheppard directed at him and then quickly took in his team. "Boys."

"Colonel."

"Way to be alive." Well, it was something he was also quite happy about at the moment. But, Lorne couldn't help wondering why he sounded so surprised. This probably wasn't going to be something he would want to hear.

"Thanks, sir! So, uh, have you come to rescue us?"

"Well, until about a moment ago I thought you were dead, but now that I see you speaking and breathing, yeah, I'm thinkin' about it." Oh, great. Everyone thought they were dead. So not a rescue mission like he had first thought, just one hell of a coincidence. Damn, those villagers must have been good. Not surprising really, they had managed to fool them for a long time. He wondered if the reward had been worth it.

"Well, good! Let me know if there's anything we can do to help, huh?" All joking aside Lorne was so very relived to see him. Sure they were all in the same predicament now, but if you were to be trapped with anyone, who better than John Sheppard, he swore that man had at least nine lives. If there was anyone who could get out of impossible situations, Lorne was standing right next to him. Then maybe he could put a stop to this nasty little rumour he was dead.


End file.
